If anyone was having nightmares, Jack thought as he was jolted awake in the early hours, surely it should have been him.  But, as happened too often, it was the individuals in his orbit who suffered.

Throwing aside the pillows that had been so thoughtfully placed to support his battered body the previous evening, he reached out for Ianto, determined to be well enough to quell the thrashing and keening, and soothe the petrified young man back into a more peaceful sleep.

This was worse than the upset Ianto had suffered on Monday night, he was obviously further into the nightmare; it wasn’t until the third attempt that Jack managed to gather Ianto up and bring him close, holding and caressing as he whispered lots of reassuring, comforting, loving nonsense, not particularly caring what he said, just trying to find the words that would break into Ianto’s horror and bring him out in one relatively unscathed piece.

Jack’s memories of these moments had remained vivid, and while he was away he’d worried about Ianto suffering alone.  It was impossible to forget the terror, Ianto half-waking in a panic and gabbling that he was being upgraded, they’d got to him, sometimes on the verge of hysterics as he checked that he still had eyes rather than implants.  He’d systematically search every inch of his own skin and Jack’s for metal, for wires, going so far as to tear off Jack’s watch and hurl it away the one time that Jack had been in so much of a hurry to take Ianto to bed he’d forgotten to remove it.

And all the while, the roll call of the dead, the mutilated and corrupted, would pour from Ianto’s lips amidst the screams or whimpers of fear as the monsters advanced in his mind, the pleading for mercy, for himself, for Lisa, for the whole human race.

It was difficult to wake him fully, but when Ianto finally surfaced he would push away from Jack, more often than not running to the bathroom to deal with the lingering nausea, but sometimes just finding a corner to hide himself in, away from Jack, from comfort, weeping from the shock.  Alone, until Jack found him and did his inadequate best to rescue him from the brutality of his past.

His Ianto.  Beautiful and wonderful and so, so damaged.  Jack had cried with him and for him, letting Ianto cling to him and paw his flesh as he made sure, again and again, that there was no metal.

This morning, despite the time it took to calm Ianto, Jack’s intervention had come in time, and Ianto woke just enough to register his surroundings and his safety, before wrapping his arm around Jack and pressing as closely as possible to this source of security, able to sleep providing Jack didn’t relax his own unyielding grip before Ianto was fully unconscious.

The predictable wave of anger rushed through Jack, and he ranted internally for a countless time that Ianto wasn’t a soldier, he shouldn’t have experienced these things; he raged over the ways Ianto was affected every day, and not always aware of what was disrupting his life.

Ianto shifted in Jack’s arms, muttering about metal and blood and giraffes.  Jack dismissed all thoughts of Cybermen and lofty mammals.

“Yan,” Jack murmured.  “Sweetie.”

With a smile, Jack wondered what else he wasn’t allowed to call Ianto.  Another wriggle and Ianto’s hand moved unconsciously to Jack’s thigh.  A single touch, and Jack was responding: that was reassuring.  He toyed with a few memories and the one that made his obsessed and possessive self hardest and happiest was the recollection of Ianto’s voice, husky with lust and full of wonder as Jack rolled his hips and introduced his cock to Ianto’s prostate for the first time.

‘This is…I wasn’t expecting…good, this is…this is…ah, fuck, Jack, JackJackJack…’

…

Ianto woke at his usual time, was horrified to find himself all over Jack and practically made an individual apology to every healing wound.

“I feel okay,” Jack assured him.

“You’re awake,” Ianto stated the obvious.  “Didn’t you get any sleep at—”  Ianto stopped sharp as he remembered.  “I had a bad dream, I disturbed you.”

“Not as much as I apparently disturbed you.”

Still worried about hurting Jack, Ianto was slow to let himself be coaxed back into Jack’s embrace but, with a little gentle persuasion, Jack eventually got his way.

“You’re not planning on going into work today, are you,” Ianto told rather than asked Jack.

“Not if you stay with me.”

Ianto nodded against Jack’s shoulder, snuggled down, and went back to sleep.  Entirely content, Jack dozed too.

At a little after ten Ianto rose and made breakfast for them both, which he brought back to bed.  Omelettes, tea and toast.

“I could get used to this,” Jack told him, comfortably sitting up in bed, near-evisceration having been rapidly forgotten.

“The offer’s still open.  Y’know, the house.”

“What good is the house if you’re not in it?”

“A lot of good.  You shouldn’t live at work,” Ianto insisted.

“Says you.  How many hours a day do you put in?”

“Not as many as I used to.  There’ll be less again in a month.”

“You going to be able to cope with that?”

“I expect I’ll remember how.”

“Sure,” Jack said bitter-sweetly.  “You just need to find a nice girl to settle down with, and this time next year you’ll be married, kid on the way…”

“There are worse things.”

“There are better.  There’s what you actually want, if you only had the courage to admit it to yourself.”

“Tell me then.  You claim to know my mind better than me, so…?”

“Maybe later.  When you’re not so inflexibly in denial.”

Jack gave a winning smile and Ianto chuckled to himself as he cleared away the tray.  By the time he came back from washing up the plates and tidying the kitchen, Jack had visited, and finished in, the bathroom; there was a hint of spearmint in the air, and Ianto was amazed to find that Jack had bothered to shave.  Back in the bedroom, Jack was standing naked in front of the wardrobe that bore the full-length mirror, examining his battle scars and the quickly fading bruises.

“You look as if you’re mending fast,” Ianto observed.  “How are you feeling?”

“Couple of aches and niggly pains, but other than that…I’m good.  And y’know what?  You were right, I really do have the most magnificent ass in the Universe.”

“I’ll never get used to this.”

Ianto’s tone was enough to prevent any further arse jokes; their eyes met in the mirror.

“This?” Jack prompted.

“You healing overnight from injuries that would kill anyone else.”

“You will get used to it,” Jack promised.  “It’ll stop scaring you one day.”

“And that would be due to prolonged exposure, would it?  Desensitisation?”

“Something like that.”

“It’s a horrible thought.  In fact, it’s lots of horrible thoughts.”

“Isn’t this where you remind me that you won’t be here?” Jack taunted, barely able to keep a smile from his face.

Ianto didn’t respond with anything other than a nod in the direction of the bed.  Jack obediently climbed back in, watching with expectancy that morphed into greed as Ianto leisurely shed first his t-shirt, then his pyjama bottoms.

“Slushy sentimentality?” Ianto encouraged as he paused, one knee on the edge of the bed.

Jack held out a hand to him.

“Come and make love with me.”

“Too much,” Ianto told him with a scowl, but he slid beneath the covers regardless, directly into Jack’s eager touches.

“I’ve missed you.”

“Yes, I know.”  Ianto eased Jack onto his back, concerned about him straining his recent injuries.  “Just let me, all right?”

“Maybe.”

Ianto pushed the covers away and leaned over Jack, tracing the strips of unmarred flesh between the Dermabond ridges, first with his fingertips, and then with his lips.

“What will you say no to?” Jack asked, another deliberate reminder of their first time.

Ianto glanced at his face, exposing a momentary touch of nervousness that was visibly stifled.

“Nothing,” Ianto told him with great determination.  “Nothing.”

“Really?  ‘Cause those handcuffs you never fancied…”

“Within reason.”

“Okay,” Jack grinned, and Ianto shook his head and sighed before returning the grin and giving Jack a few kisses, first to his mouth, then over his jaw, pausing on his neck to try to make his mark on the impossibly resilient skin.  “Think you could fuck me first, piss up my leg later?” Jack gasped as Ianto’s attention to his neck resulted in severe twinges elsewhere.  “I’ve missed you, and some parts of me have really, really, really missed you.”

“Any chance you could shut up and let me enjoy this?”

“Any chance you could cut to the chase?”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“But I was looking forward to…”

Ianto’s mouth skimmed over Jack’s flesh, pausing at his left nipple and teasing it to a peak, tongue flickering over the rigid nub.

“Fuck.”

“And I was looking forward to…”

In one rapid movement, Ianto was down the bed, his lips enclosing the head of Jack’s cock…

“Fuck!”

…and easily riding the instinctive thrust as Jack desperately sought more contact.  The lips withdrew and Jack groaned.

“But if you want me to cut to the chase…”

“You drive me crazy.  Still.  I dreamed of you, Ianto, I dreamed of this.”

“Even when you were in his bed?”

“I told you, it wasn’t like that.”

“I fucking hate him,” Ianto growled against Jack’s stomach.

“I did too for a while.  When he made it plain that he didn’t want me.”  Ianto’s head rose, and they stared into one another’s eyes with unclouded honesty.  Two kinds of pain, resolved in one blow.  “He was right not to,” Jack admitted.  “It wasn’t him I wanted, it was…the him before I knew you.  And now I wonder if that was more about…about…”

“Pissing up his leg?” Ianto smiled.

Ianto smiled?

“You’re smiling?  I’m telling you I tried to bed him and you’re smiling.”

“Because I never believed you didn’t and I’ve wanted the truth from you.  And I like him better for telling you to get lost.”

“He didn’t—  Although…  He may as well have.  And even though I cared, I didn’t…y’know…care?”  Jack had been too busy thinking about the past to notice Ianto rummaging in the bedside drawer, but he couldn’t fail to miss the cool, wet slide of a single finger as it slowly invaded his body.  “Oh, fuck, yes, please.”

“Did you settle for me?  When you couldn’t have him?”

“I settled for…getting my head straight…and…and…”

A second finger joined the first and between them they probed and loosened out-of-practise muscles.

“And?”

“And…he noticed I was…sick.”

The movement stopped.

“Sick?  Are you…”

“Not that kind of sick.  Who-sick.”

“Homesick?” Ianto suggested.

“Who.  It was a not-having-who sickness.  The who was you.”  A creak escaped Jack’s throat as Ianto’s fingers moved again.  “He brought me back to you.  I was gone…a year-and-a-half in my time, but…but…he brought me back as close to my…leaving as he could.  I had nothing…and then…then…  I didn’t have you.”

“I refuse to feel guilty.”

“Good.  Fuck me, Ianto?”

The fingers withdrew again and returned with more slick, then Ianto swiped the residue over his own erection as he knelt between Jack’s thighs.  Jack hooked a heel behind Ianto’s backside and urged him forward.

“Wait,” Ianto snapped.

“I’ve waited long enough.”

“Just wait, or…”

Jack’s foot dropped back to the mattress.

“Please don’t do this to me.”

“Do what?”

“Stop.”

“I’m not stopping.  Neither am I considering how stupid an idea this is, nor how it’s a fairly damning point of no return for the pair of us.”

“It is?” Jack said gleefully.  Ianto threw him a stern look.  “It is,” Jack agreed sombrely, keeping his face neutral for all of two seconds.  “So, if you’re not stopping…?”

“I’m worried about hurting you, Jack, maybe there’s another position, or I could ride…”

“This is what I want, and you know that.  I want you to fuck me, and I want to see the look on your face when you come in me.”

Ianto didn’t have an ounce of resistance left in him.  All he wanted was laid out before him and even if, at that precise moment in time, the wisdom of the entire Universe had been inflicted upon him, he wasn’t going to stop until he’d soundly fucked Jack Harkness.  Jack spread his legs as far as he could and Ianto willingly accepted the offer, shuffling into position and lining the tip of his glans up with Jack’s opening, meeting the man’s eyes as he began a slow but inexorable push forward, increasing the pressure until the head of his cock breached Jack’s body, and the two men released a synchronised moan.

Ianto was at arm’s length, keeping all his weight from Jack’s damaged torso, but that wasn’t good enough: Jack leaned up on his elbows and willed Ianto to kiss him, and how could Ianto possibly refuse him anything?  Their tongues slid sensuously together as Ianto’s cock gradually penetrated Jack’s tight channel, inch by inch, interspersing the kiss with breathless gasps and lusty murmurings.  When Ianto’s hips were pressed against Jack, the kiss broke and the gaze resumed.

“Can I say it?” Jack whispered, “I want to say it.”

“No.”

“I can’t promise I won’t when…”

“Look at us, Jack,” Ianto said very pointedly, and together they stared down their bodies to where they were joined.  Ianto withdrew several inches then, with the same unhurried deliberation, sank back inside.  Jack’s erection twitched and dripped in excitement.  It all made for a beautiful, erotic picture.  Again, Ianto slid his cock out, but further, so he was only just inside Jack.  The return was a fast thrust, and Jack collapsed onto his back, weakened by the sensations coursing through his system.

“Good?” Ianto asked, determined not to fuck as frantically and possessively as he actually wanted to.  Jack nodded and reached for Ianto, still wanting him closer and knocking his arms out of lock to bring him onto his elbows.  “I shouldn’t put any weight on you,” Ianto insisted, but Jack held him to his chest and kissed him, rolling his hips and rubbing his cock on Ianto’s belly.

“Oh, yeah, that’s it,” he announced with loose-jawed lust.

“I’ll never forgive myself if I hurt you.”

“Fuck me, Ya…  Uh.  What can I call you that you won’t hate me for?”

“Ianto.”

“Mr Jones?  Actually, I kinda like that.”

“No.”

“Fuck me, Keeper of the Archives and Chief Recorder, Torchwood Three?”

“I’ll’ve finished before you get to the end of that.”

“You’re managing okay right now.”

“Because someone is distracting me with idiocy.”

“Cariad,” Jack said quietly, and watched Ianto melt, apparently not painlessly.  “Cariad.”

“That’s not fair.  It means…”

“I know.  I know everything it means.”  Jack’s hands swept over Ianto’s back, down to the delectable curves of his arse.  He squeezed encouragingly.  “Have me, Cariad.”

Proximity dictated that the strokes were no longer smooth and elegant, but the passion was there, engulfing them as Ianto gave in to Jack’s demands and wholeheartedly fucked him, fucked them both into a physical and emotional frenzy that encapsulated everything they’d lost and wanted and needed.  Ianto wouldn’t let himself utter a word, knowing how irrational he’d be under the circumstances; he wouldn’t let Jack do more than groan IantoIantoIanto, keeping his hand close to Jack’s mouth, ready to cover it before any potential damage was done.

Passion without finesse, indeed.  Ianto ground himself into the welcoming heat of Jack’s depths, feeling fingernails scraping at his waist, at his shoulders, the unforgotten undulation, the tightening of muscles around his cock that told him Jack was close to climax, ready, all it would take was…little more than a look.  Jack’s eyes flickered open, and they were black with desire.  More.

“Mr Jones, I lo—”

Ianto’s hand slapped over Jack’s mouth and he felt the smile beneath his palm.  Why should a smile be so erotic? Ianto didn’t quite have time to think, it was simply there, instinctively, as his increasingly desperate thrusts tipped Jack over the edge.  The knowledge of Jack’s pleasure was enough to destroy any remaining restraint and bring about Ianto’s own orgasm, but knowledge, and that smooth channel clutching at his prick, and the feel of Jack’s spunk streaking over his stomach, and…  Pure.  Fucking.  Bliss.

Body staggering to a halt, Ianto kissed Jack, or tried to at least.  Jack was panting and laughing, full of satisfaction and delight and Ianto.

Easing himself away, Ianto fell to Jack’s side, laying a gentle hand over the network of brittle ridges that marred the man’s skin.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Jack promised, still chuckling.  “Anything but.”

Ianto nodded, happy and relieved to accept that.  He flopped onto his front and turned his head, pressing his face into the pillow; he wasn’t crying but he was definitely teary, and that was something he really didn’t want Jack to witness, in much the same way as he really didn’t want to analyse the gamut of whys.

Ianto was aware of the covers being dragged onto them, and Jack being close enough to throw a heavy arm and leg over him.

“Sleep,” was murmured, a breath against his ear, and Ianto didn’t need telling twice.

…

Roused by the sensation of fingertips drawing patterns down his spine, Ianto leisurely stretched before rolling onto his side, pressing the length of his body against Jack’s.

“Welcome back,” accompanied the kisses that peppered his neck.

“Mmm,” was about all Ianto could manage, but it was mmmed with a very satisfied smile.

Jack’s renewed erection nestled in the valley of Ianto’s buttocks and he couldn’t resist a slow rub.  It was bound to give Ianto ideas that Jack couldn’t presently live up to, but Jack didn’t want to stop, it felt much too good.

“Jack…”

“You have the perfect ass, you know that?”

“Is that what you’d like?” Ianto asked, a little hoarse from his nap and sounding incredibly sexy.  “Want to fuck me, Jack?”

“I want to be stronger first.  Right now, I’m not asking for any more than this.  In fact, you can go back to sleep, it won’t stop me.  And it wouldn’t be the first time, or shouldn’t I tell you that?”

“I could be on top, you wouldn’t have to strain yourself.”

Ianto sounded fully awake now, voice quiet and soft.  Offering himself and wonderfully willing.  His Ianto.  Jack wiggled an arm around Ianto’s waist and hugged.

“I hate that anyone else had you,” he confessed, his tone one of sincere apology.  “I have no right to feel that, I know.”  Pressing his erection hard against Ianto, Jack fell still.  “It used to turn me on so much, the thought that I was the only one who’d been inside you.”

“You think I didn’t know that?”

“I might have fooled myself you didn’t.”

“Jack…  Nothing’s changed.”

“Nothing’s—  You mean…?”

“I told you there’ve only been two blokes since you.  The first, that was…  It was a really crap one night stand that barely got as far as a mutual wank.  We’d both been drinking, he was as nervous as I was depressed, you can imagine how stirring the whole non-event wasn’t.”

“And then there was Bryn.”

“A happy bottom to my happy top, or so he thought.  I didn’t want him to fuck me, so he didn’t, there was never any pressure from him.”

“He was one of the good guys,” Jack grudgingly admitted.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad you had him, but…”

“He wasn’t you, Jack.  I wouldn’t let him fuck me purely because he wasn’t you and I didn’t want to lose the last scrap of us that I had, the only thing that seemed to be special to you.”

“That wasn’t the only thing…”

“And,” Ianto pressed on, “however much I liked Bryn, we wouldn’t have lasted.  He wasn’t you.”

“I’m amazed that you’ll admit that.”

“So am I,” Ianto agreed.  “Want worse?”

“Worse?  That suggests you not wanting Bryn because he wasn’t me was bad, and it sounded pretty good to me.”

“I know you were—  I think you were joking about the nice girl, but…  I don’t think I can be satisfied with anyone else if I know you’re on the planet.”

“That’s…  You must be able to feel my heart.  Can you feel my heart?”

“Like it’s in my chest.”

They were quiet for a while, simply experiencing their closeness.  Thinking.  About leaving.  About staying.

“London’s sounding lonelier all the time,” Jack eventually said.

“Lonelier, but easier.”

“Why easier?  We can work, Ianto, we can be together.”

“But for how long?  At least if I’m in London, I won’t see when someone else takes your fancy.”

“’Cause you’ve witnessed so much of that since you’ve been at Torchwood Three, huh?”

“You were right, what you said.  Remember?  About having the reputation?”

“I trade on old stories and I flirt.  That’s it.  You would have known, Ianto, you were at the Hub nearly as much as I was, you’d have known if I was fucking around.”

“Your stories are too convincing, I’m afraid.  As far as this is concerned I find it impossible to trust you.”

“That’s your problem.”

“I don’t doubt it.  See, I know how ordinary I am.”

“Ianto…”

“No, Jack, just…  I know what I have to offer – this isn’t about selling myself short – but I can’t equal the glamour of a Time Lord or a war hero, and I don’t intend to make a fool of myself trying.  I won’t let you make a fool of me, either, not now you’ve made this relationship so public.”

“What are you saying?  Other than the obvious.  Where are you headed with this?”

“Other than the obvious?  I don’t really know.”

“It started with…London.  You’re still going,” Jack concluded glumly.

“Yes.”  Ianto paused in thought.  “All right, can’t believe I’m saying this, but…  Let me leave without a fuss.  If we can make it work – us work – for six months, or a year, even if we’re just catching moments when we can, then I’ll think about transferring back to Cardiff.”

“If you think I’ll start screwing around the moment your back is turned, wouldn’t you be better here, keeping me sexually exhausted?”

It was a joke, Ianto knew, but a fairly provocative one.

“If that’s what you need, then I don’t want you.”

“You’ve already said you find it impossible to trust me.  I could live the life of a saint and you wouldn’t take my word for it.  That hurts.”

“Yes,” Ianto conceded.  “It must.”

“And, a quick reminder: I left the Time Lord to be with you.”

“Yes.”

“As for the war hero…”

“You don’t have to…”

“Owen was right.”

“Owen?”

“You didn’t hear what he was saying when he was gluing me back together?”

“No, but…  If it’s his usual theory…”

“The war hero was all about me being manipulated by Bilis Manger.  No-one you need to feel threatened by.”

“I didn’t say I believed Owen, did I?”

“Owen simply made me face up to something that has been in the back of my mind for all this time.  The war hero was too perfect to be real, and he was presented to me in a situation that was designed to exacerbate every negative feeling I have about myself.  I was more than preoccupied when Tosh was trying to get us back and you were shooting up the workplace, I was a complete pushover, and if the captain was Bilis Manger’s puppet…”

“No, Jack, he was real, we know he was real.”

“Sure, this version felt real, but didn’t Lisa?  And Diane, and Tosh’s mother?  But there’s real, and there’s real.  Bilis could hop through time in a blink, he was able to stage manage the entire event.”

“The captain was…”

“This should be helping you, you shouldn’t be defending him.”

“It’s you I’m defending.  I’d rather you were an overwhelmed romantic than a fool.  We’re the fools, I want you to be better than that.”

“I’m not.  And you know I’m not.  I was deceived by a dream, Ianto.”

Ianto squeezed Jack’s arm to his chest and sighed a huge sigh.

“I’m exhausted, and not in a good way.  Can we postpone round two until after we’ve eaten?”

Whether the round two that Ianto referred to was verbal sparring or a further bout of sex, Jack agreed.  He reluctantly let Ianto squirm out of his hold, and watched the fluid movement of the young man’s body as he pushed back the covers and sat up on the edge of the mattress.

“I haven’t much here,” Ianto said over his shoulder.  “I’ll nip up to the shops and get us something for dinner.  Healthy ingredients rather than chips, before you ask.”

That put the smile back on Jack’s face.

“You’re going to cook for me?”

“Yes, I am.  Any requests?”

“We still talking about food?”

“Probably.”

“Then…no.  Whatever you decide will be fine.”

Ianto rose and went to the window, throwing open the curtains and flooding the room with pale, wintry light.

“Will you be here when I get back?”

“I’m not going to the Hub, no.”

“But are you staying on the planet?”

“At least until after dessert.  That’s you, by the way, just in case you think I’ll settle for cheesecake.”  As Ianto turned his back on the light, heading for the chest of drawers, Jack noticed a curved line of silvery skin near his spine.  “That’s new,” Jack said curiously as he wracked his brain, trying to figure out what he was reminded of.

“What?”

“C’mere.”

Ianto returned to the bed, troubled by the barely concealed anxiety on Jack’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

Pulling Ianto down and onto his front, Jack examined the scar before locating another close by, equally as unobtrusive, equally as disturbing.

“Where are these from?”

“An incident when you were gone,” Ianto told him, sounding too deliberately nonchalant.  “You’ll have read about it.  Let me up, or we’ll never be fed.”

“I know this,” Jack insisted, voice becoming brittle as old memories fell into place, “I recognise these, and there was no mention…”  Jack tugged Ianto up and around to face him, retrospectively terrified for the man he loved.  “How the hell did it happen?  The creatures who did this, I know them, they’re truly evil.”

“A mistake, all right?  Rectified, obviously, as I’m still here.”

“They’re classified as sniper-fodder.  No-one gets anywhere near them, ever.”

“It’s over, Love.”  Ianto saw and empathised with the fear, and pointlessly attempted to comfortingly hug a rigidly unhuggable Jack.  “We screwed up, yes, but it’s over.”

Jack broke away, standing and manhandling Ianto to his feet, taking him to the window so he could examine every inch of his body in the bright light.

“What else?”

“Nothing, we got away.”

“Ruar Druja, they’re called.  They steal body parts, organs, they’re so intransigent, so treacherous that no civilised society in the Universe will enter into a dialogue with them, and they’re in the archive.  I can’t believe that you would—”  The anger on Jack’s face morphed through realisation to upset and on to redoubled rage, all in less than a second.  “No, you wouldn’t.  You wouldn’t.”

“Jack…”

“You saved his job,” Jack ground out through gritted teeth.  “You saved his fucking job.”

Jack was dressing in an instant; Ianto pointlessly tried to reason with him.

“Stop, Jack.  Will you please stop and listen to me?”

“Who else would have made that kind of mistake?  Which of you is the only one arrogant enough to think that research is for wimps?”

“You know he’s only winding you up when he says—”  Ianto just made it to the bedroom door before Jack, throwing his back against it and refusing to move.  “None of this is as simple as it appears.  You have to listen to me, you can’t…”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t, not where this is concerned.  Owen’s going to answer for this, then he’s out on his ass.  I don’t know how you managed to hide this.  Ruar Druja.  Here.  The population of South Wales could’ve ended up as a stockpile of parts.  It’s obscene.”

“I know.  We all knew, but only after the fact.”

“Why are you doing this?” Jack hollered in frustration.  “You’re scarred, Ianto, your kidneys were about to be scavenged.  How can you be so calm about that, and how in hell’s name can you protect him!”

“Because any one of us could have made the final decision that day.  Jack…  You’re the one who taught us about second chances.”

“Seconds chances,” Jack snorted.

“I owe every one of them.  They gave me a second chance after Lisa.”

“They wanted you out.”

“You think I don’t know that?  But once it became obvious that I was staying they tried to put what happened behind them.”

“I’m the one that kept you at Torchwood, don’t forget that.”

“Yes, because you wanted my arse.  They didn’t have that motivation and they still tried their best to accept me.”

Jack took a brisk step forward and Ianto thought he was about to be thrown aside; he braced himself, but Jack retreated as abruptly and it was clearly visible that he was trying to calm down.

“Where are we talking about?”

“Talygdowen.”

“I read that report.  The aliens were marked as an unknown race.”

“The report was necessarily selective.  The situation was badly affected by the human equation and…”

“Owen has a human equation?” Jack snarked.

“We’d received insufficient and erroneous information about what we were dealing with, the classification programme couldn’t pin down what these aliens were with any degree of certainty.  Ruar Druja were only one of a dozen possibilities.”

“You know how this goes.  You hit the archives and dig out everything you have on all potential threats.”

“Ruar Druja,” Ianto emphasised.  “R to T.  I got there and the files were all over the place, I couldn’t find what I needed, and there wasn’t time to reorganise the section.”  Jack finally seemed less likely to rush away so Ianto hurriedly dressed as he carried on with his explanation.  “The human equation.  The only detailed reports from the scene were medical, and they were graphic in their explanation of how the victims had been maimed before they were killed.  Yes, Owen has a human equation, and it was one of the few things he didn’t lose with his lunch when he saw the photographs.”

“I can imagine,” Jack said flatly.  He’d seen too, in the past.  Other worlds, ravaged species.

“He didn’t do anything, or make any decision the rest of us wouldn’t have done or made, but fate decreed he’d be calling the shots that day and…  We had to take a chance, Jack.  People were dying horribly and we felt like we had no choice.  Once we understood what these aliens were it was too late, we were trapped.”

“You should be dead.”

“I know.  We all should.”

“Who else has those scars?”

“Gwen.  We’d both been prepared for surgery – if you can call it that – and had these patches on our backs, they’re sort of…umm…” Ianto floundered.

“I recognise them.  They’re used after the initial incision to keep infection out, but keep the patient mobile.”

“That’s it,” Ianto agreed.  “So we were able to fight back.”

“Handy they needed to keep the meat fresh.”  Ianto paled at that; Jack felt a twinge of guilt and changed tack.  “How did you get away?”

Ianto gave a dry laugh.

“I’d love to pretend it was our extraordinary intelligence or modern technology that saved the day, but…  Apparently nobody ever warned the Ruar Druja not to step in a puddle that also contained a live electrical cable.”  A grim smile flickered over Ianto’s face.  “If they’d used the door instead of crashing through the wall and bringing the internal wiring and plumbing with them, we’d all be spare parts.”

“I need to know more about this.”

“You’ve read the case file, that’s enough.”

“Ianto…”

“There were four of them, that’s all, none before or since.  Two were electrocuted, the other two were distracted by that and subsequently hacked to pieces with their own surgical instruments.”  Ianto crossed to Jack and reached up, using his fingers to comb Jack’s hair into shape as he had the previous evening.  “I knew that, due to the Ruar Druja’s classification, if the report was completely accurate Owen would be held responsible and relieved from his position at Torchwood Three.”

“Wouldn’t you have liked that?”

“I didn’t try to stop him,” Ianto explained simply, “none of us did.  We saw the pictures too.  And nobody could have taken the results of his decisions harder than him, I promise you.  He really suffered.”  Ianto dropped his hand.  “There.  You’re halfway respectable.  If you want to go and sack him at least you’ll look gorgeous on the CCTV as you do it.  But if you sack him, maybe you should sack us all, seeing as our judgement was collectively fucked and he simply had the final word.”  Ianto shrugged.  “I’d rather you didn’t.  That was our team bonding exercise, and it worked.  It would be hard to start again.  Isn’t that why you haven’t bothered to find a replacement for me?”

“I haven’t found a replacement because you’re not going anywhere.”

“Perhaps you could turn that blind eye of yours in the direction of Talygdowen?”

Jack was deep in thought.  Ianto chose to believe it was a good sign.

“Is this why…” Jack began slowly, “…just sometimes, Owen’s…different?”

“I think so, yes.  We were all the same for a while, all somewhat overprotective of each other.”

“So…the set piece diversions I’ve seen, that’s Talygdowen, not because you slept with him.”  Ianto’s jaw fell in unmistakeably sincere shock; Jack looked satisfied.  “I guess that’s a yes and a no.”

“It’s more than a no,” Ianto protested, “it’s more of a…not in a million years!”

“Okay.  I have to talk to him about this.  He has to know I know.”

“Please, Jack, let it go.  We’ve learnt that particular lesson.  Talygdowen’s another Brynblaidd, it’s something hideous we have to put behind us, and we’ve been managing.”

“He has to know I know,” Jack repeated.  “He can’t carry on with the threat of me finding out hanging over him.”

“No,” Ianto agreed, appreciating the consideration on Owen’s behalf, and happy to be reminded of why he thought Jack was actually pretty wonderful.  “Thank you.”

Jack gently brought Ianto around and pulled up the jumper he’d put on.  Falling to his knees he kissed the healed skin of Ianto’s back.

“You’re so young.  You shouldn’t have a single scar on you, body or soul.”

“I’ve earned them.  Or deserve them.  One or the other.  Both.”

“You want to fight over that?”

“No.”  Ianto turned and yanked Jack to his feet.  “I want to go shopping, buy nice wholesome food to help you heal, and be your dessert.”

“Want me to come along?”

“No.  We’ll end up with forty frozen pizzas and a single tub of coleslaw.”  Jack looked hopeful.  “No.”  Ianto slid his arms around Jack, instigating a long, tender kiss.  “Rest while I’m gone?”

“I’m fine, I promise.”

Another kiss and Ianto finished dressing, collected what he needed, and left the house.  Jack wandered downstairs and into the living room to watch the Rover drive away, giving Ianto a last wave through the window.  The house’s contents were ninety-percent packed so there wasn’t much of an opportunity to snoop through Ianto’s belongings, but his laptop sat on the dining table, calling to Jack like a technological siren.

Jack booted it up, giggling over Ianto’s password as he did every time he ‘borrowed’ it, typing in imalittleteapot.  Once online he transferred to his own access codes and quickly manoeuvred his way into the Torchwood system, calling up all the Talygdowen files and, in particular, Owen’s report.  As Ianto had pointed out, no human equation.  Without compunction, Jack used his overrides to download the doctor’s private logs, respecting Ianto’s judgement and needing to experience a little of the man’s suffering before he made a final decision about whether to slip Owen a hefty dose of RetCon with his morning coffee.

…

As he wandered Tesco’s hallowed aisles, Ianto fished his phone from his pocket and speed dialled Owen.

“Is he all right?” Owen immediately asked.

“Fine.  He knows about Talygdowen.  He saw the scars.”

“Shit.  Haven’t you ever tried shagging in the dark?”

“It went a lot better than I’d hoped.  The revelation, not the shagging.  The shagging was already down to a fine art.”

“Enough!  Is he on his way to throttle me?”

“No, but he does want to talk to you.”

“Shit.”

“I think he’ll let it lie.  Just…don’t ask for a single favour for the next decade or so.”

“What exactly did you tell him?”

“The barest details, but I was completely honest.”

“Shitshitshit.”

“When I left him he was in a reasonable enough mood.  Of course, he could’ve been humouring me, and is already on his way to slit your throat.”

“Stop enjoying this.”

“Seriously?  If you have somewhere to be, leave now.  Just in case.”

The connection went dead, and Ianto smiled meanly to himself before turning his attention to the selection of some rather nice courgettes.  Nutritious and phallic: Jack would be most impressed.

…

Dinner was very good: chicken stir fry that Jack wolfed down, followed by blackcurrant cheesecake because the idea was irresistible after Jack’s comment.  They watched TV for a while, pretty much without watching, too busy talking because they were still catching up with each other.  Work as work wasn’t mentioned.  Owen and Talygdowen were not mentioned.

Ianto lured Jack to bed early, looking forward to more sex but also wanting Jack to get some rest.  Despite Ianto’s willingness to try any position that facilitated Jack fucking him, from a simple ride to swinging from the light fitting, Jack chose to wait until he was back to full strength and Ianto wasn’t fussing over every scrap of Dermabond that pinged away from his perfectly healed wounds.  So Jack lay on his side and Ianto spooned behind him, fucking his beloved captain for a long and sensual time, an old, horny pattern that was physically satisfying but emotionally disastrous.

Afterwards, in a remarkable turnabout, Jack slept while Ianto lay awake, taking his turn at staring blindly at the ceiling.

This was difficult.  Understatement, this was soul-destroying.  Stupid, stupid decision, to let things go so far before he left, Ianto knew that, he’d known it even as he’d let Jack wear down his defences, one by one.  He could make excuses for himself, pretend the sex wouldn’t have happened if Jack hadn’t been so badly hurt, but Ianto’s need for this kind of contact had been quite ferocious.  It was a miracle he’d held out as long as he had.

He was leaving.  Up until Tuesday morning he’d been leaving Cardiff, now he was leaving Jack.  He’d been due to feel sadness and regret, now he was going to be thoroughly distraught and the tears he’d expected to shed stood every chance of being engulfed by screams of pain and outrage.

There was no longer any point in denying to himself that he loved Jack.  The difficulties they’d been through, rather than teaching a sage lesson and deterring Ianto’s feelings, had simply produced challenges to be overcome before he could take his rightful place beside his captain.  It was tragic to have proved himself emotionally, yet still be intellectually-bound to moving on.

He loved Jack completely and, although the idea was still sacrilegious to him, he loved him better than he’d ever loved anyone.  Perhaps innocence had to be lost to expose the depths of the heart, perhaps a man had to suffer before he could find true contentment.  Whatever the reason, Ianto was besotted – albeit realistically – and couldn’t imagine a way forward without Jack.

Beside him, Jack stirred, rolling so close he almost squashed Ianto.  Neither of them seemed to mind very much.

“Mr Jones,” Jack smiled sleepily.

“Going to save me, Jack?”

“I’ll always save you,” Jack promised, waking fully at that.  “Bad dream?” he asked with tangible concern.

“Yes,” Ianto agreed instantly.  “Absolute nightmare.”

“You’re okay,” Jack assured as he cuddled Ianto to him.  “You’re okay.  I’m here.”

Ianto may have accepted the affection and smiled into Jack’s neck, but it was a smile of utter and dismal irony.

Attrition 25       Attrition Index       Attrition Notes

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